


The Setting Sun

by TheSilverPhoenix



Series: Victuuri Week 2018 [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Day One, Execution, Kidnapping, M/M, Pirate!Viktor, Prince!yuuri, Victuuri Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverPhoenix/pseuds/TheSilverPhoenix
Summary: Prince Yuuri always longed for an adventure outside the Palace walls, yearning for the ocean on the horizon. He never expected, however, to be kidnapped when attending a pirate’s execution. Now, Yuuri is a captive of the infamous (and rather handsome) pirate, Viktor Nikiforov; he can’t exactly say he’s too heartbroken about that.





	The Setting Sun

The castle was bordered by the sea. In the mornings, Prince Yuuri Katsuki would wake up to the sound of waves crashing against the rocks far below the castle walls built on the edge of the cliff. The smell of salt would hang in the air, as persistent as the gentle pull of the sea itself, tugging at his senses and tempting him to join it. To be free from his solitary life in the castle, as a Prince, and to just let go. To just be.

Every night, he would curl up in his bedroom window and stay up just late enough to watch the sun sink on the horizon and paint the sky in stunning hues of reds and blues and oranges. The sea would lose its blue-green hue in favor of those same colors and, eventually, melt into an inky black to reflect the silvery light of the moon and stars, which hung like shattered diamonds across the sky, touching the horizon to follow the sun.

Now, however, the sun was high in the sky, glaring down on the arena below. The summer heat was oppressive and stifling, soaking into Yuuri’s thick clothing and clinging to every inch of his body. Even in the shade of their booth and the slight breeze of the waving Palm leaves, the heat seemed suffocating. Royal blue flags flowed over the stadium seats, bearing the Katsuki family crest proudly in golden thread while looming over the crowd on the floor. The rays of light glinted ominously off of the metal bearings of the gallows and casted shadows towards the Royal Family, the black outline of the hangman’s noose landing at Yuuri’s feet.

Viktor Nikiforov was an infamous pirate who sailed the Pacific Ocean, pillaging and plundering and causing chaos wherever him and his crew landed. Until three days ago when he was captured by the Royal Navy.

Why Yuuri, or any member of the Royal Family, needed to witness the execution was unknown to him. Maybe it was because Nikiforov had cause so much trouble, so much grief; maybe it was because life at the palace was so monotonous and boring that they decided that they needed something to do besides sit around and read books all day. Either way, Yuuri sat with his family, to the left of his father. His silver crown was precariously perched on top of his head, glistening in the sunlight and weighing far heavier than the delicate pattern would imply.

After several minutes, Yuuri heard the sound of rattling chains over the mummering of the crowd, distant at first but growing closer and closer with every minute. Then, the gate to the arena rose slowly, screeching in protest as the chains pulled it upward. Immediately, people parted and a pathway appeared. The guards came out first, two in the front and two in the back, each one clad in their blue uniforms and muskets thrown over their shoulders. Viktor followed, bound in the chains and clothed in prison rags.

Yuuri had certain expectations, images and presumptions he’d built in his mind from stories he’d been told and read. Pirates were supposed to be dirty and ugly, uncivilized ragamuffins who had no dignity or decency to live in society, so they ran off and became bloodthirsty heathens with no sense of self-preservation.

Viktor Nikiforov was certainly NOT any of those things.

The pirate captain held himself with utmost confidence, his head held high and shoulders pushed back, even with rusty chains around his wrists and dirtied rags clothing him. Long, silver hair fell over his shoulders and down his back, glowing in the sunlight as he walked steadily towards the gallows, towards his death, without a fault in his step.

And God, Yuuri completely forgot how to breathe.

It was like he was seeing the man in slow motion.

He was absolutely gorgeous in every sense of the word, and Yuuri couldn’t even imagine seeing him in his full glory. If he was stunning after spending three days in prison, what would he look like wearing actual clothing (or none at all)?

The pirate was lead up to the stage and stopped in front of the hanging noose waiting for him. To his side, one of the guards pulled a scroll of paper from the folds of his uniform and looked up at the Royal Family. Yuuri could see Nikiforov’s gaze follow, his icy eyes landing on him and raking over his body. Yuuri resisted the urge to shiver under the gaze as the guard began to read.

“Viktor Nikiforov, you have been found guilty of numerous crimes against the Crown. These crimes include, but are not limited to, murder, imitating an officer of the Royal Navy, sailing under false colors, and piracy. The punishment for these crimes is death, which will be carried out this day, July 14, 1642 at noon by way of hanging.”

The guard rolled up the scroll as Nikiforov stepped forward. Yuuri watched the executioner slip the noose over his head, the rope resting snuggly against his porcelain skin and silvery hair. The pirate looked up at Yuuri again, eyes glinting mischievously as a cunning smirk curled on his face. Yuuri sat up in his seat with his attention fixed on the scene.

The executioner moved slowly, deliberately, towards the lever, reaching out with gloved hands. Yuuri couldn’t help but wince when the lever was pulled and the sound of clunky mechanics filled the air.

On the stage, Nikiforov fell.

Yuuri waited for the sickening sound of a snapped neck or the rope being pulled taunt with the weight of the person falling. He did hope that his death was quick - suffocating took a long time if your neck didn’t break on the way down.

But it never happened. The rope never pulled taunt and the snap never came. Instead, Nikiforov fell all the way to the ground with a broken noose around his neck, just as an axe buried itself in the executioner's chest.

A silence came over the crowd and confusion wrote itself onto Yuuri’s face.

Then, there was a gunshot and absolute chaos erupted.

Below them, people pushed and shoved and Yuuri’s visual on Nikiforov disappeared as guards appeared in their booth.

“Your Majesties,” the guard said. He was heaving long, shallow breaths as his face painted in a red flush. “We must go. The pirates - Nikiforov’s crew - they’re here. In the crowd.”

Quickly, Yuuri and his family were rushed out of the booth, guards flanking them on each side, pushing aside civilians in favor of escorting the Royal Family. But people were still pushing and shoving their way out. People pressed against Yuuri. Pushing and moving in different directions. The air was becoming harder to breathe. God, he couldn’t breathe. What was going on? Where was he? He couldn’t even see which way he was going now. He looked around at the blur of people. There were no guards in sight. Where were the guards? Where was his family?

And then, there was a flash of silver, a warmth on his back, and a cool knife at his throat.

“Don’t move,” a voice whispered in his ear, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer. Yuuri clawed at the arm around his waist, trying to pry it off of him. The knife pressed harder into his throat.

Yuuri froze.

“Your Majesty!”

Dozens of guards appeared at once, muskets aimed steadily at them.

“Release him,” one guard demanded.

Behind him, Nikiforov hummed, “Mmmm, I don’t think so.” His captor took a step backwards, dragging Yuuri with him. “Prince Yuuri and I are going to leave now. If anyone follows us, he dies.”

Yuuri’s heart pounded in his chest, he could feel it. Steady, but loud and fast and God was this really happening?

Nikiforov pulled Yuuri backwards with him, watching the guards carefully to see if they were, indeed going to follow. Yuuri could see the guards itching to take a step forward as the two disappeared around a corner.

“What are you doing?” Yuuri asked the pirate as he was drug through the halls.

“I’m kidnapping you, obviously,” Nikiforov responded, shooting him a dazzling smile. Yuuri’s heart fluttered in his chest despite the fact that it definitely shouldn’t have. “Terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but I didn’t really have any intention on dying today.”

“How dare you-”

Nikiforov ignored him, dragging him along as he pushed through a door. Sunlight flooded Yuuri’s vision, blinding him with a white canvas of nothing before it faded gently to reveal a small beach. Damn, Yuuri never realized how close the arena was to the ocean.

“Viktor!” a voice shouted. Yuuri saw another man running down the beach, waving at him for attention. The man stopped in his tracks when he saw Yuuri, who Viktor still held close by his side. His eyes widened, “Viktor…”

“We don’t have time to argue, Chris,” the pirate said breathlessly, looking back at the door behind them, waiting for the guards to break through and open fire. “Where is everyone else?”

“Already back on the ship.”

“Good, good. We need to leave, now.”

Wordlessly, the other pirate - Chris - nodded, still anxiously looking between the two, and gestured towards the small dinghy beached behind him.

“After you, Your Majesty.”

Yuuri stepped into the dinghy, carefully holding onto the sides as the small boat swayed gently beneath him. Carefully, he sat down, determined not to lose his balance as the two pirates followed behind him and pushed off with an oar.

“Are you sure about this?” Yuuri heard Chris whisper unsurely in Viktor’s ear. “He’s the Prince, they’ll come looking.”

“I know,” he whispered back. Chris nodded and began dipping the oar in the water to propel the boat forward. Yuuri could feel himself relax with each of Chris’ strokes and the gentle rocking of the waves. Viktor looked at Yuuri, his blue eyes filled with concern and worry. “Are you alright?”

A broad smile spread itself on Yuuri’s face and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Of course. You could’ve been more gentle though.”

“Sorry, dearest,” Viktor apologized, shifting towards Yuuri and bringing his fingers up to trace the faint red line on his neck where he’d held the knife. Viktor winced at the thought of Yuuri in pain, “but you did say to make it as realistic as possible.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Yuuri agreed, loosening the knot on the noose around Viktor’s neck and slipping it back over his head, leaving his silver hair ruffled in its wake. Yuuri laughed and smoothed it back out, throwing the rope over the side of the dinghy.

Next to him, Chris looked thoroughly confused. “I’m sorry. What?”

Viktor and Yuuri simply looked at each other and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! This is for day one of Victuuri Week 2018 and I choose the Historical!AU prompt. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> If you want, you can follow me on Tumblr, [here](https://silverphoenixwrites.tumblr.com/). I hope to see you all soon!


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